


Happy Anniversary

by theoreticallychaotic



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Established Relationship, Fluff, Humor, Javert doesn't like surprises, M/M, not my best writing, or flowers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-05
Updated: 2013-12-05
Packaged: 2018-01-03 14:24:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1071515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theoreticallychaotic/pseuds/theoreticallychaotic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For the prompt which asked for a fic based on Philip Quast's Happy Anniversary.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Happy Anniversary

"Here" Jean lifted the magnum from the ice bucket, "Have some more."

Javert's scowl remained fixed as he watched his partner top up his flute glass with more gold fizz.

"Twenty years." Jean mused; for all that he was addressing Javert and the ensuring silence, he might as well have spoke to himself.

Had it really been that long? He laid the bottle back in its icy casket and noted that Javert's expression was unchanged; his thick eyebrows knotted in displeasure.

Jean had plotted this night for months with the sort of precision Javert often demanded of his officers. Jean had procured the best champagne, the tickets lay in wait upon the mantlepiece, and now he was attired in that chocolate-hued suit that Javert was rather partial of - even if the years had made it a little tighter. It must have been the flowers that set Javert's mood. Maybe he should have guaged how Javert would have reacted before settling on the dozen red roses. Javert, for his part, had sat all the while (his apparent displeasure notwithstanding), still in his uniform; only sips of fizz seemed to settle him enough to prevent an eruption of emotion. It wasn't that he disliked surprises per say, rather that he wished he knew about them in advance, though Jean tried to argue this was entirely against the spirit of surprise. Then again, it also didn't help that Javert's suit - the one Jean had dispatched earlier in the week for a dry-clean - had yet to arrive.

A large hand rested heavily on Javert's shoulder. "I'm sure it won't be much longer." Jean tried to placate him.

Javert responded with an obvious turn of his head to the clock, now inching towards a quarter-to-eight, then fired an eyes-narrowed look to Jean. "You said that at six-thirty, then again at seven-thirty. Will it be too much to assume you will say it come eight-thirty too?"

Jean padded over to the window and craned his neck to glance down the stretch of road. "Just the Gods testing us, I'm sure."

"Ah, yes. The God-of-fucking-useless-delivery-people-being-fucking-useless-at-delivering-dry-cleaned-clothes-on-time." 

Jean pressed his rough fingertips to his greying temples in a vain effort to soothe a building headache.

Javert slurped at his glass, "What was his name again? He was the one I could never remember during my classical studies."

"Gerald." Jean answered, only paying a modicum of attention to Javert's grumblings.

Javert paused in lifting his glass to his mouth. "I was jesting, Jean!" his voice had a gruff tone.

Jean set his glass on the coffee table with a not-to-careful ploink and shouted back to Javert as he headed for the front door: "Gerald from the dry-cleaners - he's just pulled up outside, with your suit, no doubt."

Jean was gone only a moment before he re-appeared and held the bagged garment out to his other half. Javert stood and retrieved it, his lips pressed into a straight line.

"Thank you."

The sound of Javert's heavy footfall had barely died away before the crescendo of an enraged growl fell upon Jean's ears and spurred him up the stairs two steps at a time.

"Whatever is the matter?"

"What's the matter?" Javert cried, his blue eyes ablaze with anger. "Look at it!" He swept his splayed hand above the clothing laid out on the bed. 

Jean's eyes followed. In fairness the garment was flawlessly clean, and it was black. It's downfall, however, was that the shape was clearly not that of a tailored tuxedo but a finely cut dress. Jean, pressing his hand over his mouth, eventually had to allow his laughter to burst forth; Javert's horror only served to amuse him further. "I'm sure a sweep of red lipstick and a manicure will bring it out lovely. In fact, I'm sure I've some-"

"I hope you are not going to suggest I wear that, Valjean?!" Javert cut him off, sternly.

Jean, his eyes a-twinkle, would dearly loved to have made a cheeky reference to getting Javert so inebriated that he would consent to such an idea, but on seeing the tremors of annoyance that were currently causing Javert to twitch, he thought better of it. He took a composing breath instead. "I'm sure we can find something else for you to wear" and he made for the wardrobe that ran the length of the wall at the far end of the bedroom.

“Oh no.” Javert strode forward, “I’ll find something.”

Javert had found a suit he had thought appropriate and proceeded to dress himself. He should have foreseen that it wasn't going to end well when his zipper required some forceful assistance. His hand swiftly became cramped and clammy, leaving Jean to come to his aid.

Jean tugged for several fruitless minutes. "It only wants to come down." he observed as he completely unzipped the fastening to start over. "Not always a bad thing, of course."

"Not now, Jean!" Javert gritted his teeth.

"Damnable thing!" Jean clasped one hand on Javert's hip to still him before he tried to yank the zipper close once more.

It was impossible to tell which was louder - the ripping of the fabric or Javert's angered reaction.

"Damn you, Valjean!"

"I'll..er..." Jean stammered as he scrabbled to his feet. "I’ll get you another glass of champagne." and he dashed for the stairs.

Javert was still seething on Jean's return and not even Jean's offer of pressing another pair of trousers ("So as you may set them alight?" Javert argued) could appease him. It was close to eleven when they finally arrived in town, failed to make it to the theatre and were now hoping that the hours to come wouldn't follow the tone that had been playing out since the start of the evening.

"How about a bite to eat?" Jean cautiously suggested.

Javert continued to walk, keeping his focus on the cracked paving stones. "I'm not hungry." he replied in the politest tone he could summon.

They walked in quiet, the taller man a step or two behind his partner, not heading for any particular destination. Neither of them could recall how long they had been wandering and it was quite by chance that they found themselves by the river. The air was pleasingly warm for early summer; Javert stood hunched over the railings lost in a solitary silence as he watched the waves tenderly lick at the bank and the light from the far side sparkle on their crests. A light breeze caught a few fly-away strands of hair that had broke loose from its tie. He shook his head to clear them from his eyes and, on doing so, spied Jean in his peripheral vision. His partner was walking towards him, one had suspiciously curled behind his back. He was at Javert's side in moments, but Javert only acknowledge Jean's presence when his vision was assaulted by a solitary rose dangling in front of his face; the cool, silky petals kissing the tip of his nose.

Jean's lean torso was pressed firmly against Javert's back.

"I know tonight has not been what it should have" Jean's breath was low and hot against the rigid flesh of Javert's ear, "But...happy anniversary." He nipped then, sharply, at the pillow of his earlobe.

A smile traced over Javert's lips. He fluidly spun on his heel and tightly captured Jean's wrists, the rose span to the ground. 

"Promise me one thing" his lips hovered against Jean's own, "No more bloody flowers!"


End file.
